You see but you don't observe
by robot-keayleuu
Summary: Sherlock realizes how much he's been seeing John but not observing him during his last few moments of life. Spoilers for S2E3!


He didn't mean to die but here he is.

Lying on his back with blood pouring from a wound on the side of his head, his eyes are wide, startled-pleading for a miracle. Sherlock Holmes is logical and does not believe in miracles but now, in this instant, he begs for one. For the first time in his life Sherlock wants to be proven wrong. He doesn't want to die not here, not like this; he wants to live-though he of all people knows this is impossible.

There is nothing that could save him and Sherlock knows that better than anyone.

John rocks him vigorously, muttering into his deep, brown curls, flattening them down with his chin which is rested on the top of Sherlock's head. His hair feels damp from both blood and the tears that are slowly cascading down John's face and onto to his own, feeling smooth and cool on his dry, paling skin.

John cares for him… now? How peculiar. Sherlock wants to laugh but he can't because his mouth feels tight, quickly filling up with blood from where he'd bitten his tongue. John had always been the soft type: a doctor- someone who lived their entire life to help others. ...What an obscure line of work. He-on the other hand- had been… his trail of thought falters. He didn't really work _for_ other people, he worked for himself. He wouldn't even work _with_ other people…. until John. Lying flat his stomach-although he is dying- Sherlock feels indifferent but when he thinks of John he feels as if his whole body has suddenly become plagued by a tempestuous and violent sickness, pulsating and squirming inside of him because the feeling doesn't belong. And Sherlock doesn't understand why it hurts him-all he knows is that it does.

He doesn't mean for John to feel this way. John's sadness is contaminating and now he's becoming saddened, too. He doesn't mean for John to cry. He doesn't mean for John to scream his name, to shake his body in grief and desperation, to cry out to God in agony and glower down at him with such innocent, pained and bloodshot eyes. Sherlock would prefer it if he got up and walked away-at least that would make things easier. John had been through so very much and now he'd go through so much more. But he couldn't feel bad for John-he couldn't feel anything.

Maybe he really was rotten. Maybe he really was truly incapable of feeling any kind of emotion, even upon his death.

Sherlock had always been an energetic person, always needing to move-always needing to be occupied- but lying still in John's arms- for the first time in his life- Sherlock felt calm. Sherlock felt at peace.

A medical team buzzes around him but they are insignificant; no more than persistent flies attracted by his gaping wounds. They grasp him, pull him in different directions and try to take John from his body but John will not leave. And Sherlock could only stare. He can see but he can't observe, in the same way he can see John but cannot communicate with him. He cannot tell him how sorry he is, how important he was, how much he really meant to him. And even if he was capable, Sherlock does not think he could. After all, he wouldn't know what to say.

John's eyes were astonishingly clear now, like an ocean body at night. Sherlock doesn't ever want to look away, for fear their tides might retract. Deep, blue, peaceful and cool…. Those tiny white specks could almost be moons reflected on the surface, shimmering delicately atop the waves. Odd how he'd never noticed them or before now appreciated their peaceful simplicity. Ironic—how he was always telling John that he should see and then observe, when there were so many things about John that he'd seen but left unanalysed himself-or perhaps he'd simply been looking for things that were not there. Either way, there was so much untold about John; so much that he'd wanted to know, so much that would be left uncovered. And now he'd never find the answers.

John Watson was the first and last puzzle Sherlock Holmes was unable to solve.


End file.
